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Maddock’s cell phone chimed and vibrated in his pocket. Activity around the outside camera had triggered the notification. Maddock activated the icon with his thumb, drawing in the halting black and white feed, all the while trotting back toward the entrance.
A white van with Lake Star Movers painted on the side and a 1970s era Cadillac were parked outside the barn. Six men in black clothing, two with assault rifles, were approaching the barn.
Maddock made it to the tablet and tapped the screen, bringing it out of sleep mode. The screen showed the same scene as his cell, but in more detail. He quickly texted Bones: Trident outside.
Were some of the men wearing body armor? One of them pointed up at the camera. Seconds later the signal ended.
Up the rusted ladder he raced, hearing heavy banging on the barn doors.
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Bones followed the passage for about thirty yards, around another dogleg turn. Several steps later the area opened up—both left and right, across and down. Leaning over the dark crevasse, his Maglite’s beam didn’t reach the bottom. The chamber ran about thirty feet to his right before pinching to an end, along with its walls. The same to the left, except only twenty feet. It spanned only ten feet across, but in most places there was less than a six-inch ledge, and eighteen inches at the most. Several white crystal stalactites at least three feet long hung down from the ceiling. Beneath one of them, near the far wall, was an equally tall, although a little more stout stalagmite. To the right of it was a rippled formation of iron oxide climbing the wall. To the left, the same orange color, but it appeared much of the delicate formation had been broken. In addition, the top of the stalagmite, instead of being white, held a muddy sheen, some of it buried beneath a recent layer of calcite growth.
It was possible that iron oxide had contaminated the water dripping from the ceiling and down onto the stalactite above, and caused the discoloration. Then again, Bones recalled that dirt and even oils from a person’s hand could do the same to such formations.
He shined his flashlight’s weak beam along the far wall. Something seemed odd about the area to the stalagmite’s left, besides the disturbed iron oxide formation. The limestone appeared smoother than most other places within the cavern complex.
Bones didn’t recall anything like this recorded in the journal.
He bent over to pick up a small rock in the mud at his feet. It was there he noticed the electrical wire going down into the crevasse. He leaned over and followed it with his flashlight, seeing it terminated into a box, the type the brothers had packed with explosives. And the box was tucked into a fissure about ten feet below him. Closer examination showed the fissure ran both under his feet and was present beneath the side opposite where he stood. It didn’t take an engineer to figure that such an explosion could collapse this entire area, maybe half the cavern. That was if the decades-old explosives could still be detonated.
Maddock hadn’t shown up. Probably didn’t hear Bones call out to him. Trying with his cell phone was out. The battery was truly dead. He did, however, have the batteries he’d changed out sitting on a ledge where the passage branched off of the main one. The ones currently in his flashlight had no more than another fifteen minutes. The other set had at least ninety minutes. He could go all the way back for new ones, and let Maddock know of his discovery.
Bones shook his head. The ghost of Hue appeared for a reason. Wanted him to follow. Assessing the walls, and his experience as a free climber, it would be hardly a challenge to get to the other side. The brothers had clearly felt this area was important, and the ghost of Hue emphasized that. Maybe he wasn’t heard from again because he fell down into the crevasse?
Backtracking to get the half-spent batteries just in case, and calling for Maddock one more time as a compromise, Bones decided the discolored stalagmite was the key. If he reached it, things would start happening.
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Outnumbered at least six to one until Bones reached him, Maddock weighed his options. With only two magazines for his Walther, against two apparent M4 Carbines with thirty-round magazines, and certainly converted from semi-automatic, and probably everyone else armed with at least a pistol, the odds were long against him. Not only were these guys better armed, they were certain to be better trained than those he and Bones had dealt with at Johnny’s print shop.
Climbing up into the loft would offer him surprise, but after that, limited his possibilities. If he stayed on the ground level and could work his way around and out the door, he might lead them away. He checked his phone. No reply from Bones. He could dial 911, but that would draw the deputy sheriff responding into a situation where he—or they—would almost certainly be outgunned.
He checked his cell phone again. There was no way he could go back after Bones. They’d both be trapped in the cavern.
A few moments later someone began prying the sliding door open with a crowbar. The brace was holding the side door closed, but the boards were coming apart under someone’s boot or shoulder. How they knew to go to the barn? Maybe they got some information from Brenda before Maddock and Bones arrived at Johnny’s print shop. Or, someone had pumped information from Ruth Harshbinner in the nursing home. Whatever the case, they weren’t there to talk.
Maddock turned off the lights, including those in the cavern before sliding along the wall, behind the equipment, making his way to the old planter with its bins. If he could draw their attention, he and Bones might get them in a crossfire.
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Bones climbed out to his left, and made his way along the damp and occasionally slick limestone wall. At several spots, his shoulders bunched as his fingers clamped on like vices while he sought out elusive toe holds.
By dropping a stone and listening, Bones had estimated the drop into the crevasse was at least two hundred feet. The splash confirmed what his flashlight suggested, that the bottom was filled with water. How deep was anyone’s guess.
“That would make for an ugly fall,” he muttered, inching back from the edge.
Cutting back where the cavern walls pinched together was the trickiest part, but his training and physical condition reduced the effort to a minor challenge. Soon he had the ledge, the protruding twelve inches, making the final stretch feel like walk in the park.
When Bones reached the stained stalagmite, he removed the Maglite from between his teeth and examined it. Something about it suggested a lever rather than a simple mineral formation. Gripping the top he attempted to move it like shifting gears in an automobile. Pressing right to left caused the crystal formation to shift.
Several clicks beneath it followed. Then a scraping rumble in front of him, beneath his feet. A slab of the limestone, six feet high and three feet wide, swung back, away from Bones, opening like a door.